


Dear Diary, I'm not alone anymore

by Illyria_Lily



Series: Supernatural Comfort for different things [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Always Keep Fighting, Hurt/Comfort, Sad life, Self Harm, Song fic, you're not alone
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-24 12:02:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12012300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Illyria_Lily/pseuds/Illyria_Lily
Summary: The reader (You) remembers some of her past that she's tried to forget after she finds her dairy from before she met the guys. The boys all try to comfort her in their own way when they find out what she's thinking of.





	1. Dean

**Author's Note:**

> This is based off the song "Dear Diary" by MikelWJ  
> Here is the youtube link  
> Lyrics: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nS-GR1OwdKI

 

Your room was a mess, you needed to clean up but you'd been putting it off for too long. With a sigh you decide to work your way from the floor and work your way from there. You picked up the clothes and things on the ground, made the bed and started cleaning off the desk. Later you were organizing the pile of stuff on top of your dresser. You sifted through a small pack of pictures, some loose papers with drawings on them (if you could call your doodles 'drawings') and a box with some old journals in them that you moved around earlier so you could find some books for research. You decided to take a break after a half hour, you were almost done, but it had been a long week with the vamp nest you the boys had taken down a few days before. Practically bouncing onto your freshly made bed you grabbed one of the journals thinking that you'd look at some of the doodles and stupid poems you'd written as a teenager.

You didn't realize which journal you'd grabbed though, and contently opened up to a random page. There was a large text entry that took up more than the two pages that you'd cracked into. It read the following;

_Dear Dairy,_

_Today was a long day at school and I haven't really eaten anything yet today, but I guess that's good. I just wanted to write something real quick before I was off to bed, so here it goes. Dear Dairy..._

_Last week was my 14th birthday. One of my presents was a gift card to my favorite clothing store. When I went there I couldn't help but notice all of the pictures of models and people with flawless skin and barely any fat. When I got home, (I didn't buy anything) I just decided to watch some T.V., but then there were more people with perfect bodies and just God! I would kill to look like them._

_I haven't felt that great about myself since then, I feel worthless and everyone else is so happy. But lately I'm just felt horrible. Fat, ugly, not good enough._

_So I tried to lose some weight, I haven't eaten much and usually what I little I do eat, I just throw up. What if I gain more weight? I look like a rhino already at least that's what everyone else says. My stomach hurts so much and I just want to eat, but I read that it takes 12 hours for the body to start using it's own fat as fuel, so just a little while longer and hopefully I'll just use that I won't be as hungry._

You stopped reading, remembering when you had starved yourself, and tried everything to lose weight, to be beautiful, in fact you though you vagely remembered writing these entries. You continued onto a different page that was dated a few weeks later.

 

_Dear Dairy,_

_I couldn't take it anymore, I needed something to cope with the pain of all of this hunger and the teasing from the kids at school. I accidentally cut myself when I was making dinner, and the blood was beautiful, and the pain was different than what I'd felt lately. So I tried it the next day, which was yesterday. I love it, I know it sounds wrong and messed up, but it's like a comfort that I didn't know existed. Do I need help?_

 

You flipped a few more pages ahead.

 

_Dear Dairy,_

_All of the girls at school have someone for the dance next week, but not me. I guess I'm still not pretty. Then when I told my mom that I couldn't go without a date, she frowned, but there was still this happy glint in her eyes and she told me, "Then I guess you can go if you don't have a date." My own mom said that to me, she might as well have just said that no one will ever want me. Not that that's a surprise. People at school are starting to say I look like a skeleton, but I still don't feel like I look skinny, I just see all of this fat and these flaws. So I just take the razor blade from my pencil sharpener and cut at everything that upsets me. I etched "no love" into the inner side of my calf. I think I went too deep, there was more blood than usual, I think it'll scar. But in the end I deserve it. After all, no one's told me I'm worth it._

 

You couldn't read anymore, you closed the book as tears welled up in the corners of your eyes. Now you were 23, you'd ran away from anything that had to do with your family at age 18 after your parents threaten to put you in a mental hospital when they found out about the self harm. Two weeks later, the Winchesters found you kidnapped by a vampire that was attracted to the sent of your blood when you were cutting your ankles in an alley. The boys took you in and took care of you, you obliviously were still with them now. You'd fallen in love with Dean, and would've been married by now if it weren't for the hunting lifestyle that you had. There just hadn't been time, plus marriage was just a piece of paper. 

Just then the door opened and Dean poked his head in thru the crack. 

"Y/n?" He smiled. The grin disappeared as soon as he saw the tears drying on your cheeks. "What's wrong, baby?" He stepped in and walked towards you as you stayed on the bed with the book in hand.

"I just found something. Brought back some memories." You sniffled. The bed sunk under Dean's hips as he sat down next to you. 

"Why're you crying, what'd you remember?" He asks concerned. His hand rests on your shoulder and pulls you closer to him.

"I guess I just realized how much I, I just." You tried to explain. "When I was 14 I was lost, I just didn't like living with myself. I wanted to hurt because thought I deserved it,  sometimes I did. I made myself throw up until I bled just to be thin when you could already see my bones without squinting. The only think I liked to feel was pain that I caused." You shook your head fighting tears. Your fingers brushed over the scars on your wrists that you given yourself. Now there were scars from hunting to match them, but you could still remember exactly which was which. "I didn't think anyone would love me, because I didn't."

"You listen to me," Dean looked deeply into your eyes and spoke with a low voice. "I know you didn't think you could be loved, and I know you still have problems with that now, that sometimes you still think you deserve to be hurt, but if you won't believe in anything else, trust me when I say you are worth it, you deserve love, not pain. You're beautiful, you're smart, you're worth every bit of love an affection anyone can give you. It doesn't matter if you love yourself or can't stand looking in that mirror, I will always love you. I will love you for both of us. It will never matter to me if you think you're bigger than you think you should be or if you don't like to look at your own skin after the things you've done. And if you get lost again, I will never stop finding you."

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. All of the things that he said were opposites to what you and others told you so many years ago. 

"Then I guess I'll just have to believe you." You whisper. 

"Don't you forget it." He mumbles into your hair and kisses the top of your head. The two of you sit there like that for longer than you could count. Just sitting there with Dean's arms around your torso and your face resting on his chest, breathing in his leather scent. And you knew then, if there was one thing you wanted to tell your younger self; it was that you'd found a man that treated you like a queen.

 


	2. Cas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Dean comforts you in your room over the recalled struggles you wrote about, your thoughts and temptation to self harm again become stronger than usually, even though you though you were over it. Castiel can't help but notice something off about you,

"Don't you forget it." He mumbles into your hair and kisses the top of your head. The two of you sit there like that for longer than you could count. Just sitting there with Dean's arms around your torso and your face resting on his chest, breathing in his leather scent. You count as his chest rises and falls with each breath. One-hundred seventy-four, one-hundred seventy-five, one-hundred seventy-six, one-hundred sev-

"We should get up." He croaks as he lifts his chin from the crown of your head. "I gotta go on a supply run thanks to Sam practically running himself into a coma with these trials. You wanna come?" You shake your head. Your red rimmed eyes met his striking green ones that reflect the hopeful smile he bears at you.

"No, humans need food, I should at least made Sam a sandwich if he can hold it down while he's glued to his bed."  The corners of his mouth go down a little, but he still keeps a somewhat uplifted demeanor. 

"Okay," He nods just barely. "You want anything? Pie? Chocolate?" He sing-songs the last word suggestively.

"Nah, I'll just feel bad for eating it. I got a great depress me gift from myself today already." You try to laugh. Dean's smile disappears completely, 

turning into a straight line paired with a sigh. "Y/n, you just said humans need food, it might as well be food that tastes good, in fact it _needs_ to be food that tastes good."

You know you won't be able to get Dean to stop treating you, he loves to show you he loves you. And he likes doing it several ways, not just treats or front seat rides in the impala or... stuff in the bedroom. So you compromise with the voice that's always been in your head.

"You know what? Grab  _one_ big bag of M &M's, and we'll mix it with popcorn for a movie this week, okay?" You try to sound happy about the sweet treat, but after the painful reminder of starving yourself, eating feels gross again. Sometimes you were fine with eating a burger, you probably wouldn't have anything else with it. Other days were worse and you didn't wanna even touch a salad. Today was gonna be a salad day thanks to that diary.

"Awesome! I'll be back in a little bit. Cas might pop in while I'm out, he's trying to keep moving so Naomi doesn't find him." Dean brings you in for one last, tight hug. His arms stretch around you as you can feel the muscles just below the skin flexing against your back and shoulders. "I love you, call me if anything happens, alright?" He gets up from the foot of the bed and starts walking out of the room, but stops at the door, you know he wants a response, he wants to know you're okay.

"I love you, too! I'll make crappy food for the giant. Maybe I'll see if there's bones somewhere I can crush to make his bread." You joke. He shakes his head with a grin as he walks out toward the bunker's garage. You wait a minute before standing up to walk towards the kitchen.

 

*****

You grab the bread, some peanut butter, there's not jelly so you grab the jam. There barely any jam left either, but you don't know if Sam will even be able to eat the whole sandwich before coughing up blood. Should you just bring him some bread first? See if maybe he can hold that down? As you continue your inner monologue and autopilot through the draws for a knife, you're stopped once your hand actually touches the metal. 

Your hand freezes around the handle, you remember the entry from the diary...

 

_I accidentally cut myself when I was making dinner, and the blood was beautiful, and the pain was different than what I'd felt lately. So I tried it the next day, which was yesterday. I love it, I know it sounds wrong and messed up, but it's like a comfort that I didn't know existed. Do I need help?_

 

What if maybe you sliced your hand while making Sam a sandwich? No, you shouldn't go back to cutting, you'd been clean since the boys found you after the vampire accident, it'd been four years, you were doing pretty good. You shouldn't, should you? Maybe just a little cut, depending on where it goes, it could sting a lot but not even be very big, like a paper cut, right? Just instead it'd be a knife. You could see the blood already, maybe the fleshy part below your thumb on your palm? God, that would hurt like a bitch, maybe it could go across your palm under each of your fingers, a smooth line with a crimson top, just a few inches long. The sting would release so much, maybe you could hurt less for just a minute while it-

"Y/n? Why would you do that?" Castiel's deep voice pierced the room. You half gasped, half yelp due to his breaking of your trance. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." He apologizes.

"It's fine." You assure him with a heaving chest, would it kill him to clear his throat before scaring the living daylights out of you?

"Why would you do that?" He repeats once he feels you've recovered.

"D-do what?" You asks innocently. 

"The knife." He answers shortly.

"Cas I told you to stay out of my head a long time ago!" You scold him.

"I'm sorry, truly, but your thoughts were so loud. I don't think I could have 'tune them out' even if I tried." He wears an expression between embarrassment and concern. Somehow only Cas could make that face. "But why Y/n?"

"I wasn't gonna do anything, it's fine." You defend yourself.

"You had plans on how to make it look like an accident. You would've done it if you thought you could get away with it, wouldn't you?" He pushes.

"I...uh," You freeze. Would you really? Probably, it's like riding a bike, except the bike is razor sharp and once you're on it, it's even harder to get off of it than the last time. You would've done it you know you would. But you can't let the boys, especially Cas know that. He isn't sure what to do with human emotions sometimes, so he'll ask questions, you don't want him going to Dean and worrying him too.

"Y/n," Cas interrupts your thought process. "Be honest, it's alright."

"Yeah, fine. If I could get away with it, I wouldn't even flinch at the thought." You admit.

"But why?" His bright eyes feel like they're going to burn you if you don't explain to the angel.

"It's a release." You answer softly. You wait for him to respond, but all he does is continue to stare intently at you. You can't help but feel so uncomfortable with the silence, so you keep talking. "It makes me feel better when nothing else does. And it's not just a release, it's control. Control over something when I can't control anything else. When I started, I couldn't control anything or make anything turn out the way I wanted it to. Not my parents, the people at school, not even my own body looked the why I wanted it to."

"We'll get you to stop then, there's no reason to hurt yourself." Cas gives a hopeful smile. "You control so much more than you think, sometimes it just takes practice. You control how you treat others and sometimes doing well by others makes you feel better yourself. You help people all of the time. You smile at them, or even acknowledge their existence, they notice you can see them. You control, your words, your effort, what you stand for, how you treat yourself. If you want control I'm happy to help you see that you do have power!"

He has a point. Sometimes you're just too blind in your own pain to see it. The control is always there, sometimes you just feel to weak or upset to take it. Control isn't given, it's taken and you took control when you met the boys. Like Cas says, it's just practice. 

"Exactly." He nods.

"Cas. Head. Out." You snap as kindly as you can.

"Sorry."


End file.
